


Five Lives Nathan Jackson Saved (And One He Didn't)

by Todesengel



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title doubles as summary</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Lives Nathan Jackson Saved (And One He Didn't)

****

1.

When he struck out West after the war, he hadn't intended to end up in the New Mexico territory. He'd wanted to head further North, to Chicago, to see if some doctor might let him observe his operations – maybe even teach him a thing or two. He'd been afire with curiosity, with the feeling that mankind could be better, could heal better, than they had during the war. He'd seen too many dead young boys to ever believe that this was the best medicine had to offer.

But the stagecoach broke down in Four Corners and needed a new wheel, and so he'd taken a room in the boarding house for the night – him, and his little black bag full of tinctures and herbs, and the greasy cardboard suitcase that held all the rest of his worldly goods – and by the time the stagecoach was ready to go he'd already set Goodie Whemper's arm and helped deliver the Winthrop baby. This town needed him, for all that he weren't no real doctor, and he reckoned he could do better here than he'd ever could as some anatomist's body man in a fancy Chicago school. So he hired out a set of rooms above the livery and put up a sign and reckoned he could do some good here.

And then Howard Johnson and his sons brought him the crazy old preacher man who raved and fought and called out for the crows. He was dying – or near dying – sick as he was, and clearly suffering from dehydration, malnutrition, sunstroke, and, oh yes, an imbalance of the brain, and Nathan wondered if it wasn't too late to catch the next stage out of here after all.

 

 ****

2.

"Nathan! Nathan!" JD shouted, and Nathan looked around, shaken out of his fear-induced shock. There were dead men to be dealing with, people to be healing. He looked over to where JD sat crouched over a fallen man, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Buck on the ground. He ran over, heart already heavy – Buck wouldn't be the first friend he watched die, but that fact did nothing to make this death any easier, less important.

"Easy now," he told JD. "Give him some air."

"Aw Buck." JD was sobbing, and he was too young to be here, though he was older than Nathan had been the first time he saw someone die.

"It's ok, son," Nathan said, and while he only meant it as a platitude, he was surprised to see that it was true. The wound bled heavily, yes, but it was shallow. Ain't half as bad as some of the wounds Master Jackson had caused.

"Aw Buck," JD said again.

"Hey kid," Buck said, "do yourself a favor. Get yourself a real hat."

"Buck, you ain't gonna die," Nathan said. "Let's get you stitched up and you can spend time with all them fine ladies."

 

 ****

3.

Nathan poked at Ezra's mouth and noted the bleeding gums and the way that the scrape he'd given himself while shaving three days ago still hadn't healed. He checked Ezra's eyes, his tongue, listened to the sound of his breath.

"Well?" Ezra asked petulantly.

"When's the last time you ate something green?" Nathan said.

"Green? There are no green things out here." Ezra sniffed derisively and looked out the window. "Unless you count the cacti."

"Uh huh." Nathan opened his _A Popular Cyclopedia of Modern Domestic Medicine_ and flipped to the section on scurvy. He read the entry through, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

"Ezra, looks like you got a bad case of scurvy," he said at last.

"Scurvy?" Ezra stared at him, then laughed. "My dear Mister Jackson. I have not been aboard a vessel in nearly three years. How could I possibly catch scurvy out here?"

"By drinking all your meals and eating only meat. What you need is some fruits and vegetables in your diet. Fresh ones, for preference."

"Is that right," Ezra said, his eyes half-closed as he contemplated his future eating habits. "Tell me. Is this a deadly disease?"

"Can be. 'Course you'll lose all your hair and teeth 'fore you die."

Ezra stared at him in horror. "My…hair?" he said.

"And teeth."

"Good lord." Ezra stood up, expression serious. "Tell me what I must do, Nathan. My life is in your hands."

 

 ****

4.

He wasn't at all surprised when Noah Smith burst through his doors, face flushed and wild eyed.

"It time?" Nathan asked, and Noah nodded, gulping down air while he bent in half, resting his hands on his knees.

"Gone bad, Nathan," he managed to gasp. "Gone real bad."

"All right," Nathan said and he grabbed his small black bag. They rode out to the Smith's farm in silence, pushing their horses as hard as they dared, the wind whistling in their ears and blowing out the long hair of their horses' tails.

The horses were in a right sweat by the time they arrived, and Nathan's horse was limping a little – he worried that he might have lamed the big bay. Still, so long as they arrived in time, it was worth it.

"Where is she?" he asked Noah, and Noah pointed out to the pasture where the Smith's milk cow lay, lowing her distress. Nathan ran up to her and checked her vulva. Only one tiny hoof poked out and he cursed silently.

"Gonna need some rope," he told Noah. "Have to pull this baby out."

He pushed his hand further into the cow, pushing the calf's head back while he fished around for the second hoof. It took some doing but he found it and he pulled it forward to where it belonged.

"Here's the rope," Noah said, handing it over.

"I need two slipknots, hear? One to go on each hoof."

Noah nodded and set to work. The cow lowed again and tried to stand. "Whoa there girl," Nathan said. "Ain't gonna be long now."

"This OK, Nathan?"

"That'll do," Nathan said, and he slid first one, then the other loop over a hoof. He snugged them tight then stepped back. "Okay, now. Gently does it," he told Noah, and the two of them pulled slowly on the rope, hand over hand, until the calf emerged, black and wet and indignant.

"Easy now, easy," he called back to Noah as he ran forward to catch the calf before it could fall to the ground. He checked it over – clear eyes, warm tongue, and an udder.

"Well ain't you a pretty girl," he murmured to the calf. "Ain't you just a sight."

Smith's cow stood up heavily and mooed at him, unhappy that he was so close to her baby.

"All right mama, all right. Your baby is jus' fine." Nathan stood back and clapped Noah on the back, his hands still covered with the birth fluids. "Looks like everything's gonna be just fine."

 

 ****

5.

It took them two days to find Vin, and even then it was just dumb luck that JD spotted the corpse of a big black horse down in the canyon. Coyotes and mountain lions had ravaged it, but Nathan could see the big white blaze down its face and the remnants of a saddle. They scrambled down the loose scree to where the horse lay. It was easy to see what had killed the gelding – the bullet hole through his head left little doubt as to cause, and though he didn't want to Nathan immediately began searching for Vin's body.

"He ain't dead," JD said, plaintive and lost. "He ain't, right Buck?"

"Well," Buck said, slowly, and he looked over at Chris as though begging for help. "Vin's just –"

"He ain't dead," JD said again. "Chris'd know – we'd all know – if he were dead."

"Son," Nathan said, as kindly as he could. "We all knew this could happen."

"Yeah but," JD said, near tears. "But not to Vin, right? I mean. He's careful! He'd a noticed a trap!"

"Death don't care if you're careful or not," Chris said. He brushed aside some dirt with the toe of his boot. "But it don't look like Vin's dead. Least he wasn't when his horse was shot." Chris nodded toward a cliff not too far off, and the dark maw of a cave. "Looks like he headed that way."

It didn't take them long to reach the cave. Nathan peered into the cool darkness and he wondered if they'd ever be able to find Vin in there. Seemed like there were a thousand different paths, a million different places he could be holed up in.

"Vin!" Buck called down into the echoing depths. "Vin, it's us!"

They waited for the last of the echoes to die away, then Buck shouted again, "Vin, it's us and we're coming in! Don't shoot!"

Nathan turned to Chris. "If he's alive, he needs help and fast. Reckon he was hurt mighty bad."

Chris nodded, brow furrowed. "Ok. Finding Vin is the priority here. But I don't want to lose any more of you. Mark your paths, and if we can't find him in two hours, we leave, y'hear?"

"Chris," JD said again. "We can't just leave him."

"Two hours," Chris said again, and headed into the dark, the light of his torch rapidly fading. Nathan looked at the others, then picked up his bag and followed behind, using a throwing knife to scratch arrows on the cave's walls.

The echoing, dripping darkness reminded him of the cellar down by the riverfront he'd hidden in when he first ran away from the plantation. The old fear of discovery choked him so that he could barely whisper Vin's name, and he shrieked like a barn owl when he stumbled over Vin's body.

"Vin," he said. "Vin!"

But Vin was insensate – unconscious and barely alive. The jagged white edges of the bone in his leg shone stark against the darkness of the flesh surrounding it, the blood already dried a dusty red. Nathan reached down and touched the flesh surrounding the wound – it was cold and smelled sweet. Gangrene for sure, and the leg would need to come off if Vin were to survive. Might even have to come off now – Nathan wasn't sure Vin would make it back to town, not in his condition.

"Vin," he said again, shaking Vin's shoulder hard. Vin's head lolled back, and his eyes opened slowly. They wouldn't focus on Nathan and his skin was too pale.

"Nathan?" Vin said eventually, the word clearly costing him.

"Vin, I gotta cut off your leg."

"No," Vin said, a little stronger now. "Ain't gonna…can't let you…"

"Vin, I don't cut it off now, you gonna die."

"Rather die than lose m' leg."

"Ain't gonna let you die, Vin. Not now. Not when I can save you."

"Can't take…" Vin said, then trailed off, eyes rolling back into his head, and he was out again. Out in a place where there was no more pain. Nathan looked around again. There was nobody here, no voices, no witnesses to Vin's request. And he wasn't going to let this happen again. He wasn't going to lose someone else he loved – not when he had the power to save this life. He set down his bag and opened it wide, the steel instruments gleaming and pristine.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to Vin, as he pulled out his knife.

 

 ****

6.

The sound of coughing rebounded through the small room, and each cough hit Nathan like a fist. They were wet coughs, tearing coughs, and he didn't know how his daddy's body could make such noises, when there weren't hardly anything left of him.

"Here Daddy," he said, holding out the steaming mug – steeped willow bark and chokecherry and a lot of whiskey all mixed together. "Drink this."

"Ain't gonna do me no good," Obadiah said. He breathed deep, speech clearly an effort. "Death's a coming for me."

"It'll make you feel better."

Obadiah laughed, then coughed again, blood staining his lips and the bed clothes. "Killed the man that killed your ma. Feeling damn fine from that already."

"Daddy, you gotta eat, gotta drink."

"Ain't no use, boy." Obadiah waved the drink away, his withered hand shaking. "I'm a ready for death."

"I ain't, Daddy. I just got you back."

"And I'm so happy," he said staring up at Nathan with rheumy eyes. He smiled, gap toothed and bloody. "So happy."

"Daddy. Daddy, don't go."

"It's my time." Obadiah patted Nathan's hand consolingly, then coughed again and again, coughed so long and hard he could barely breathe.

He looked at Nathan, and he was suddenly so old, so frail. Older and frailer than he'd ever been before to Nathan's eyes. The spirit had left him – was leaving him – and there was only the pain of the body left for him now.

"Help me, boy."

"Ok, Daddy," he said as he reached for the bottle of ether. "Ok."


End file.
